


Just Might Find 13

by helens78, Telesilla



Series: Just Might Find [17]
Category: Equilibrium (2002) RPF
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Kink, M/M, Masochism, Roleplay, Sadism, The Establishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-28
Updated: 2005-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:19:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean heads over to Bill's new place to help him with some drilling.  *cough*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Might Find 13

Sean grabs his tool belt off the passenger seat and slings it over his shoulder as he walks up to Bill's door. He's whistling as he goes, something tuneless, and he knows he looks ready to work today. He's got on cargo pants and a white t-shirt, the kind that's soft and loose and won't mind being sweated through; his pockets are full of miscellaneous little things that'll help him out, anything that might not fit in the tool belt. His concessions to vanity are nothing more than a neatly shined pair of boots and a black leather belt with small steel grommets as decoration, something probably far too young for him but utilitarian enough he doesn't really care.

He knocks at the door, tongue poking out between his teeth. Regardless of whether they've finished all the planning and packing and getting ready that'll mark the beginning of the contract, it's going to be fucking good seeing Bill again, and it's put Sean in a playful mood.

Seeing Sean like that has Bill grinning as he opens the door. His new boy -- well, not quite yet, but Bill thinks he can be forgiven for thinking of Sean that way -- looks good and Bill suddenly decides that it's time to see how quickly Sean can pick up on a role.

"So," he says, putting his hands in his pants pockets, "you're the boy the Establishment sent over to install the hardware?"

_Oh, it's like that, then,_ Sean thinks, grinning even wider. Apparently he's not the only one in a playful mood. "Yes, sir," he says, nodding. "What can I do for you today?"

"Come on in," Bill says stepping back. "I've got the specs the contractor left the other day," he says as he leads Sean into the house. "It's still a bit of a mess, but I figured since you were coming over, I'd leave what furniture I have away from the walls.

"Here you go." Bill hands Sean the floor plan with the notes and specs that Desmond had sent over a few days before. "Hope it all makes sense."

Sean looks it over carefully, nodding; there's almost nothing he can't manage, though on his own it's probably a week of work or more. "Makes perfect sense, sir," he assures Bill. He glances up, trying not to let it look too much like he's giving Bill a once-over, but he really should be checking Bill out about now; this is the guy who's booked him for the afternoon, after all. And Bill does look good today; he's dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, and Sean would love to just drop to his knees and start nuzzling.

_Behave, you little tramp,_ he thinks. He clears his throat. "I've got the tools for everything here, so I'll be happy to start with whatever you like, sir."

"Well, you can start by getting rid of the shirt," Bill says, stepping back a little. That Sean's cruising him a little only makes sense, and it's kind of fun to cruise him back as if they've never met. "Let's start with the kitchen; my new boy's going to be spending a lot of time there."

An Establishment slave would know better than to make a comment, even one like "lucky boy", so Sean simply nods politely and sets his tool belt down so he can strip his shirt off over his head. Then he's following Bill to the kitchen, shirt and tool belt in hand as he looks around for the places the plans show as needing attachment points.

"You need anything?" Bill asks. "I've got some tools around here, and there's soda in the fridge."

"I'm stocked on tools, sir," Sean says, knowing full well it's going to come out laced with innuendo, "unless you've got something in particular you want me to use." _Oh, go for it. It's not as if he doesn't know you're a slut, and a boy from the club would make a point of trying to play himself up._ "Or to use on me, sir." He hooks a thumb through one of his nipple rings and gives it a nice firm tug.

"Well, that's good to know," Bill says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. _Well, this has porno written all over it. I'll need to remember to leave my socks on if we fuck._ "And I think I do have something I want you to use," he continues, digging in his pocket. Beckoning for Sean to come closer, he clips a pair of lead fishing weights to Sean's nipple rings. "Better."

The weights tug at Sean's nipples in just the right way, getting his cock hard almost immediately. He'll end up squirming if the work he has to do has him moving around much, and given that it's installing hardware, he expects he'll be moving around quite a bit. "Thank you, sir," he says, and he means it.

"Oh, good," Bill says. "I like a nice polite boy." He leans against a counter and gestures to Sean. "Carry on."

Sean nods and gets his tool belt, clipping it on so it rides low on his hips, and he glances around the kitchen, running his fingertips over the spots on the walls that need bolts installed. It so happens Sean _is_ fairly good at household renovation; he wouldn't necessarily consider himself qualified to renovate exteriors or rip out entire walls, but he does know how to find load-bearing joints, how to drill through drywall and cover anything that gets too marked in the process, how to make sure he puts up matching eyebolts at the same level. He's never had to do it in his dom's kitchen, knowing he'll be getting leashed to some of these places -- and he's certainly never tried doing any housework with weights attached to his nipples -- but he's confident about what he's doing, and as he starts drilling holes and installing hardware, his hard-on's merciful enough to go down some. _Thank God._ Handling a drill while hard isn't one of the easiest things he's ever had to do.

That Sean knows what he's doing is clear from the moment he measures and marks the wall for the first bolt. Bill stays out of his way, watching with the contentment that comes from watching anyone who is competent. _Competent and damn good looking,_ Bill thinks smugly. _Lucky me,_ he thinks, reaching down to casually adjust his cock as he continues to enjoy watching his boy work.

Finally, Sean's got all the hardware installed in the kitchen. Bill's only gotten involved when Sean had to ask about placement, and now he looks around and nods. "You do damn good work."

"Thank you, sir," Sean says. He's sweating some from the work, but he doesn't mind it at all. It feels well-earned, like he's put his time and effort into something he'll be able to look at later and be proud of, and he's got more than enough energy to keep going through another room.

_Or maybe..._ He wipes his still-sweaty palms off on his thighs and grins at Bill. "Anything else I can do for you in here, sir?"

"Yeah," Bill says, looking at Sean's belt. He shakes his head; it won't do for what he had in mind, but that's a problem easily solved. Get rid of your pants, shoes and shorts -- if you're wearing any," he says. "Leave the tool belt on."

"Yes, sir." Sean almost laughs, but just barely manages not to --he's going to look like a guy in a porno for sure now, and to that end, he leaves his socks on when he strips out of pants and shoes and boxers. When he stands up again, his cock's bobbing up against the clip that holds his tool belt together, which nearly has him laughing again. He bites the inside of his cheek hard to keep the snicker in.

Bill almost loses it; he really wishes he had a sound system set up so he could get some good sleazy porn music going. Still trying not to laugh -- although he can't help smirking -- he pulls a leash out of his pocket. "Hand me your belt and then come stand over here by the wall."

Sean bends down and gets his belt out from the belt loops of his cargo pants and hands it over, turning away quickly before Bill's expression sets off laughter of his own. If he loses it, they probably both will, and Sean's still hoping that he'll get fucked. He heads for the wall, glancing at the leash Bill's holding. Just looking at it makes his cock ache even more, and that stops him from wanting to laugh. _Thank God._

After taking the belt from Sean, Bill clips the leash to one of the loops on the tool belt. In spite of the silliness of it all, this is real -- Sean on a leash in his kitchen -- and Bill's smirk melts away. "Move away from the wall," he says. "And present your ass."

Almost everything Sean's done today could have been part of the role or part of himself. The leash is different. That brings it all home: who and where he is, and that for the next three months, he belongs here, under Bill. He gets on his knees and forearms, ass tilted up. It's so easy just being here, where the only thing that matters is pleasing his master. _Christ, I'm so fucking lucky._

"I like this belt," Bill says, doubling the belt up in his hands. "I like it a lot." With that, he lands it smartly on Sean's ass, the blow more sharp than very hard. "I think it will leave wonderful marks, don't you?"

Sean jerks but immediately leans back for another blow, groaning. "Yes, master," he says, "God, please, master, slut wants to wear marks for you, _please_."

"Can I really rough you up, Sean?" Bill asks, dropping the role-play. "If I beat the crap out of you and leave you bruised and aching, will it get in the way of things you need to do in the next couple of days?"

"Won't get in the way at all, master," Sean says, looking back over his shoulder and grinning. "I've been bloody _dreaming_ of wearing your marks again. Please -- everything you want to give me, I want to take for you. Please, master."

"That's a good boy," Bill says, bringing the belt down hard on Sean's ass. "Let's get that ass nice and bruised up." He sets a nice steady pace, wanting to get Sean hurting some even before the endorphins kick in.

It works like a charm, leaving Sean openmouthed and gasping, bracing himself against the floor so he won't move far when the blows come. He pants out a few light curses, but he knows he sounds more like he's begging than cursing. That's fine. He is.

The belt is bringing up interesting marks, small red circles along with the longer welts from the edges of it, and Bill decides that he really needs a strap with grommets like this. That beating Sean inspires such thoughts is one of the things Bill really likes about Sean. He takes pain so well and so greedily that Bill finds himself wanting to give him even more. It's the kind of vicious cycle that only hardcore masochists and sadists really understand, the kind of vicious cycle that Bill loves.

And it's one of the things Sean loves about being here. He wants his dom coming after him like this, like there's no end to the things he can think up and no end to what he'll push Sean for. He wants a dom who's fierce and unapologetic, aggressive and confident. What he never expected to want was someone who can go from coming after Sean with the kind of belt that'll leave marks for days to curling up with him and cuddling, and the fact that Bill makes it all right for Sean to look for that from him is what makes Sean think the next three months are going to be bloody fantastic. No questions about where they're going. No getting nervous about falling in love. Just need matching need and interest matching interest, and both of them getting what they want.

And right now Sean wants to scream. So he does, lets out sharp cries from the pit of his stomach, not even trying to hold the sounds back. "_Fuck!_ Thank you, master!"

"Who says I'm doing this for you, boy?" Bill asks, but it's not an admonishment. Oh, sure, he's doing it to wrench more of those noises out of Sean, but he's also doing it for both of them. And he's damn sure Sean knows that.

Giving one last hard blow to Sean's ass, he pulls back and nudges Sean with the toe of his book. "Up against the wall, with your back to it, boy."

Sean scrambles -- literally, as his socks nearly have him slipping against the tile -- to his feet, getting himself pressed against the wall. He raises his arms, settling his wrists above his head, and spreads his legs. He's so fucking hungry for this; his whole body's aching for it.

After moving to get the right angle, Bill brings the belt down hard on Sean's thighs. "This'll bruise up perfectly," he says, almost casually as he watches the marks come up after each blow.

Sean's balls tighten up, the stripes landing just so, and Bill's absolutely right -- it's going to bruise beautifully. Sean hopes it's not a problem, being proud of himself for that, proud as hell that he's going to be walking around with bruises on his ass and the fronts of his thighs, remembering standing in Bill's kitchen and feeling like he belongs there. It might be a problem if he let himself get smug, but he's trying hard to stay on the other side of that line.

Once Bill's got Sean good and marked up, he tosses the belt aside and moves in close, grabbing Sean's wrists and pinning them to the wall. "Such a fucking slut for pain, aren't you, boy?"

"_Yes,_" Sean moans, arching forward, desperate for more contact. "Yes, master, please, please, your slut wants to hurt for you."

"Keep your hands up," Bill says, reaching down between them to undo his jeans. He shoves them out of the way of his cock and then grinds up against Sean, making sure their thighs are in full contact. "I'm going to come all over you and you're not going to wash before you go home," he says, leaning forward so his mouth is right by Sean's ear.

Sean shivers, nodding and rubbing his cheek against Bill's. "Please..." he breathes, "mark me, master."

"Greedy slut," Bill growls approvingly. "Fucking greedy whore." He bends his head and teases at Sean's neck with his lips, occasionally nibbling lightly. "Does the whore want more?" he asks, his mouth still moving against Sean's skin.

"Yes," Sean whispers, eyes closing. "God, yes, your whore wants more, master, wants to give you anything you want from him, please, master... Christ, please."

"Fucking slut," Bill snarls, and bites down hard, grinding his hips against Sean's. He slides a hand between them and tugs hard at one of the lead weights hanging from Sean's nipple rings.

Sean barely keeps his wrists pinned to the wall. He tilts his head back and screams, cock jerking against Bill's, so fucking close but wanting to keep himself from begging. There's been nothing implying he gets to come today; he doesn't want to sound like he's insisting on it.

Sean's scream, full-throated and totally unexpected, gets down inside Bill. So much so, in fact, that he gives a loud, surprised-sounding grunt and comes, his teeth clamping down even harder on Sean's skin. "Fuck," he says when he's finally managed to catch his breath and let the rather chewed up bit of Sean's neck go. "Holy fuck."

Sean's still wincing after Bill's teeth let up; it feels damned good, but he's going to be sore as hell. And tomorrow when the bruise really settles in, he'll have to remind himself not to spend all day playing with it. "Fucking brilliant, master," Sean pants, "thank you."

"And does my slut want more?" Bill asks, flicking the weight with his thumb.

"Oh, God, master, yes, _please_," Sean begs. God, he's rubbing up like a whore, not that that should surprise anyone, least of all himself. He's sticky and nearly naked and begging. And it's so _good_.

"Stay up against the wall," Bill says, backing away from Sean. He leans against a counter and looks at Sean, who looks like a gay pornographer's wet dream. "Go on, then," Bill says with a grin. "Jerk off for me."

Sean groans -- _thank you so much, Master_ \-- and drops one hand to his cock. Just the one; the other wrist stays above his head, as if Bill's still pinning it there, and Sean licks his lips as he jerks off, not too slow, not too fast. Just those smooth, steady motions, until he's so close his eyes are narrowing into slits. "Feels so good, master," he grunts between strokes, "thank you, master."

"Wish I had a steady cam," Bill says. "It'd be great to film you like this, to be able to show you later just how you looked."

That makes Sean blush, one that starts in his cheeks and quickly moves down his neck. "If it would please you, master," he says softly, still managing to keep his strokes steady.

"Of course it might make you egotistical," Bill says with a slight smirk. "I don't know if I want you to know how fucking good you look right now."

The blush goes a little deeper, but there's a grin to go with it now. "I'm glad master approves," Sean says, and then he has to pant to catch his breath. "Feels so fucking good, master, Christ, your slut's so close..."

"Go on, then," Bill says with a broad grin. "Shoot your load for me, boy," he adds. _Might as well stay with the porno theme._

Sean groans as his balls tighten, and then his cock's jerking in his hand and spilling jets over his fingers, onto the floor. He rocks his hips forward and back, dragging sensitive skin past his fingers until there's nothing more he can get out of it. He ends up groaning, trying to blink his eyes open so he can look at Bill. He feels every inch his master's slut, and he grins over in Bill's direction, half-collapsing against the wall.

"Good boy," Bill says, moving in and taking Sean's wrist in his hand. He shoves Sean's hand up to Sean's mouth. "Clean it up, boy." As Sean obeys, Bill chuckles. "If the serious acting thing doesn't work out for you, you can always fall back on porn."

Sean shoots Bill an amused look over his hand and takes an even more theatrical, porny lick off his fingers. "I don't think that's what my da meant when he said I needed a backup plan for the acting gig," he jokes, "but then there's always carpentry, too."


End file.
